Resistance is Futile
by freakylikethis
Summary: Damon and Elena heat up the training room when he shows her how to get to a vampire's heart. She tries to deny what's between them, but when she finally accepts it, will he still want her? (Hint: the answer is YES, and he shows her just how much). This story picks up at episode 3x06 and follows the Klaus-killing story line.
1. Counting Down

she turned away, managed a single step before he caught her by the wrists, tugging so that she fell against the solid warmth of his chest. she opened her mouth to protest, let out a breathy gasp instead when his hand dipped beneath the clinging fabric of her work-out tank. his rough, deliciously _male_ palm heated her already-exposed skin while his fingers skimmed her lower ribs and ignited every one of her nerve endings. the spot was shockingly vulnerable - and incredibly sensitive to the touch.

to _his _touch.

"damon..." her voice was choked, his touch sending shivers down her spine, his fingers stirring the embers that burned low in her stomach and stoking those embers til they burst into flame. her chest was tight, each breath trembling from her mouth as she leaned into his body, arching her back, offering him more access to her sweat-slicked skin.

"right here," he murmured, "just below the ribcage?" he gently pressed the tender area, fingers slipping further under her top as they traced the curve at the base of her ribcage. "that's the spot. that's the way to a vampire's heart."

she trembled when his lips brushed her ear, the warmth of his breath sending her pulse skyrocketing.

"no one is going to hurt you," he promised, voice soft, tone fierce.

she heard the words but couldn't attach meaning to them; her brain was gleefully surrendering to her body, and she couldn't bring herself to fight it.

his hand slipped lower, thumb brushing her navel, pinky sweeping the hemline of her shorts, dipping beneath the stretchy fabric. her heart hammered in her chest as arrows of heat shot straight to her center.

"wh - what are you..."

"shhhh." the whisper was soft and sinful and impossible to resist. she should be pulling away, shouldn't she? she should be fighting him and the things he was doing to her... right?

but what was he doing to her, anyway? next to nothing. true, the elasticity of her top had his hand pressed snug against her skin; true, if he let that hand lower just a little, his touch would go from innocently seductive to dangerously wicked.

but it wasn't. his fingers flexed, tightening in what seemed an involuntary movement, but they didn't wander, just held her in place. she couldn't step away if she wanted to.

she didn't want to.

had stefan ever done this to her? had he ever undone her so completely with the slightest touch?

had anyone?

damon's right hand had her wrist cuffed and pinned to her chest, which rose and fell with each shaking breath. he whispered something but she hadn't a clue what, couldn't make sense of anything but the thrilling hum of his lips brushing her ear, of his breath fluttering warmly against her skin.

"your heart," he murmured, and the proximity of his mouth had her tilting her head back, angling her neck, silently begging him to close the distance and feast on her exposed flesh.

literally or figuratively. at that moment, she'd have willingly given every last drop of blood for the sheer pleasure of feeling his mouth on her.

"it's thundering..."

he released her wrist and ran his hand along her hip, guiding her til her hips were swaying ever-so-slightly. whenever her body shifted, his left hand moved with it, so that it seemed to advance, to creep lower toward the part of her that was begging for him only to retreat again.

she bit back a moan of mindless pleasure.

"oh, god..." the words trembled out as she arched her back.

"what are you doing?"

she blinked in confusion. "what?"

"your hand," he said, voice husky.

she glanced down and saw that she was grasping his wrist, holding his hand in place against her.

no... she wasn't holding it in place, but pulling at it - pulling his hand not away, but down. lower. closer.

her already overheated skin flushed; she was wordlessly begging him to touch her. but despite the wave of embarrassment, she couldn't seem to loosen her grip, couldn't let go.

in an abrupt move, damon spun her around, hands on her hips, body flush against hers. her face was the picture of pure, unadulterated lust, and her eyes latched onto his mouth. if she was anyone else, any other woman in the world, damon wouldn't have hesitated - that glazed fixation on his lips was nothing short of an invitation, and by now he would've already crushed his lips to hers until his kiss drowned out any possible protest.

but it wasn't any woman.

"elena..."

she licked her lips but remained mute.

"you've got ten seconds to walk away. if you don't, i won't let you."

she was hypnotized by him, eyes dazed as they lifted to meet his.

"ten..."

she trembled.

"nine..."

she wanted to touch him but couldn't seem to move.

"fuck," he muttered, and her mouth opened to respond - and was silenced by the searing heat of his lips on hers.

the world spun. electricity crackled in the air. her brain shut down entirely.

when he finally drew back, the breath she exhaled was tremulous. her mouth was swollen and ripe; she licked her lips again, tasted him, heard a throaty hum of pleasure without realizing she herself had made the sound.

"one," he whispered.


	2. Your Love is My Drug

the world spun. electricity crackled in the air. her brain shut down entirely.

when he finally drew back, the breath she exhaled was tremulous. her mouth was swollen and ripe; she licked her lips again, tasted him, heard a throaty hum of pleasure without realizing she herself had made the sound.

"one," he whispered.

when her knees buckled, damon did what he'd never failed to do. in a deft move, he caught her before she could simply melt to the floor.

"well. wow. shit." elena reached out a hand, groping for whatever was nearest, stumbling backward and landing with a thud on the seat of the weight machine behind her.

he had to laugh. her eyes were closed as she lifted a finger and rubbed it over her bottom lip, savoring his taste.

"did you really just say that?"

she opened her eyes then, looked at him with a dazed expression.

"huh? what?"

"shit," he repeated, brow lifting in amusement.

"did i say that?"

damon knelt in front of her, tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "you okay?"

"i have no idea." she blinked, brought his face into focus. "so... so that's what it's like to kiss damon salvatore."

"hmm," he mused, studying her. "you make it sound as though you'd been wondering."

she determinedly kept her eyes on his even as she blushed. "maybe. wow. i need to sit down." she shook her head, trying to clear it.

now his smile turned into that infamous smirk. "you are sitting down."

she glanced around, a look of surprise crossing her face. "huh. good for me."

"sometimes i forget that you're so damn cute," he murmured. "the cute gets lost in all the sexy. and then you look at me like that and i just..." now he shook his head, cupped her chin in his palm and drew her forward, eyes locked on hers. "and i just have to..."

her lashes fluttered as she closed her eyes, leaned in, heart thudding erratically.

and he dropped a quick, easy kiss on the tip of her nose.

her eyes opened, registering utter bafflement.

"do that." adopting a look of total innocence, he tilted his head. "what? were you expecting something else?"

the near-brotherly kiss had her head clearing so abruptly she couldn't speak for a moment. when she did, her tone was sulky.

"you're an ass."

"i'll take that as a compliment."

she stuck her tongue out and the sight made him groan. now it was her turn to be amused, and her smile was wicked.

"are you okay?"

"nope," he answered, rising and extending a hand to help her up. she gave him a questioning look, and when his eyes met hers again, they were near violent. "i've wanted to do that for a fucking year, elena." the intensity of his gaze had her shaking, trying to mentally brace herself for the next assault, for the next devastating kiss, body hot and ready.

but he only slipped his arms around her, held her for a long moment, then took her shoulders and held her at arms length.

"you're beautiful, elena."

"you're killing me, damon."

his lips quirked. "consider it payback for a 365 days of torture."

"i never meant to torture you..."

"i know," he said softly. "that just made it worse."

"kiss me, damon."

"i can't," he told her shakily. "i really can't."

"but - what - "

"elena, if i kiss you again, i'll never stop. and i don't think you're prepared for what comes next."

suddenly furious, she shoved him. "i'm not some dewy-eyed virgin, god damn it!"

"a year, elena. a year of imagining. you have no idea what i want to do to you."

her eyes were bright and challenging. "give me an idea, then. show me."

his laugh was tinged with pain. "it's not happening, elena. not here, not now."

stunned by the rejection, her mouth opened and closed before she looked away, infuriated by the fact that her eyes were filling fast.

"i don't understand you," she managed finally, bringing her eyes back to his. despite the tears, they glinted with defiance.

"you understand me better than anyone in the world," he said softly.

her bottom lip trembled and her voice was small when she asked the question burning in her mind.

"do you... do you not want me?"

"i want you more than i want my next breath. don't ever doubt that." his eyes were very direct, unnervingly so, as he looked at her.

she bit her lip, emotion clogging her throat. "then why?"

"because i love you."

she could only stare. she knew it, always had even before he'd told her at the beginning of the summer. but hearing it now was different. the way he was watching her, eyes piercing, so serious, so focused... the look was as dizzying as his kiss.

her heart was racing again as she stepped forward, took his hand and mirrored his earlier gesture, placing his palm over her heart. "feel that?"

his breathing was ragged. he rested his brow against hers, inhaled her scent, eyes closed as his brain fought a vicious war with his body.

"i'm ready for you, damon," she whispered. "i'm ready for this."

he drew back, took her face in his hands, smiled almost sadly.

"i'm not."

and he let go, turned away. it was a lie - he was beyond ready. hell, it was taking every bit of his willpower to hold back. but damn it, he wanted to give so much more than a midday fuck on the floor of a gym that smelled of stale sweat. he wanted to give her everything.

and he would. he wasn't going to half ass this. it was too important. she was too important.

he started for the door, glanced back. she looked so small, so fragile. it only made him more determined to leave before he gave in to the animal clawing inside him.

"get some rest tonight," he said briefly. "and be up bright and early."

she didn't speak, only gave him a questioning look, keeping her eyes glued to his before they could stray to that wonderfully, devastatingly skilled mouth.

"you're training to defend yourself from a vampire, right?"

he flashed his wicked smile.

"well this vampire is at your service."

as he left the room, elena's fists clenched. she could still feel the ghost of his touch, haunting, taunting.

"obviously not," she muttered in frustration. "bastard."

in the hallway, damon grinned.


	3. I Solemnly Swear I Am Up to No Good

elena awoke with a smile on her face. well, not a smile per se. her expression was one damon would've recognized instantly. after all, over the course of his life, he'd seen it grinning back at him in the mirror more times than he could count.

and every single time, his smirk said, quite clearly, that his mind was filled with wicked schemes and devilish thoughts.

elena's smirk broadened as she was reminded of a particularly fitting quote.

i solemnly swear i am up to no good.

veins practically humming with anticipation, she climbed out of bed.

this was gonna be fun.

elena hummed to herself as she rummaged through her dresser in search of a particular brief pair of shorts. she hadn't worn them out of the house since the day her teacher ms. rania slapped her with a dress code violation - she'd broken the 'fingertip rule,' stating that your bottoms had to be at least as long as your fingertips when you held your arms by your sides.

bitch.

amused by herself and her wayward thoughts, elena slipped the shorts on, folding the elastic waistband over once, then twice. arms extended, she noted that the cloth shorts didn't even reach her knuckles. _how do you like me now ms. rania?_

realizing that she was mentally cursing a teacher from her freshman year, she grinned. god, how long had it had been since she'd woken with a smile on her face? how long had it been since she'd actually looked forward to getting up and starting a brand new day?

still humming, she tossed aside the tank she'd slept in and chose a sports bra the color of crushed berries, topped that off with a white long-sleeved shirt. the combination of white over the vibrant reddish purple hue worked perfectly; she may as well have a sign around her neck saying, "hey, check out my rack."

which, of course, was precisely what she'd been going for.

glancing outside, she saw a faint layer of condensation clinging to the window. she was definitely going to freeze her ass off.

giving her all the more reason to heat things up.

shockingly, damon wasn't a morning person. it didn't help that he'd slept miserably - although at this point, he almost wished he hadn't fallen asleep at all. when he'd finally managed to tune out the sounds of stefan and his playthings, he'd been rewarded by a restless night haunted by dreams that would've made pamela anderson blush.

the accompanying hard-on he woke up with only pissed him off more.

muttering darkly to himself, he pulled on a white cotton v-neck and one of his countless pairs of dark-wash jeans, slipped on his usual black combat boots and declared himself ready for the morning.

and so achingly ready for elena that he couldn't fucking wait to go by the gym and beat the crap out of a punching bag.

he headed for the front door, passing the living room he'd once compared to sotheby's auction house for its incredible collection of antiques. now it looked like a room in a damn frat house.

which wouldn't bother him in the least if he'd been throwing the parties, but that was beside the point.

shaking his head, he opened the front door just as elena raised her hand to knock.

his eyes swept her from head to toe and, taking in the legs covered by mere inches of fabric, remembered an especially vivid part of his dream. those long legs, deliciously sinful, wrapped around him, skin to skin.

he cursed under his breath and tried to realign his thoughts as elena looked at him questioningly.

"you okay?" she asked, doe eyes big and innocent even as she repressed a triumphant smile. "did you not sleep well or something? bad dreams?"

"that would depend on your definition of bad," he muttered darkly. "get in the car, elena. we're going."

she wore a secret smile as she obligingly jogged to the car, turned back to damon and continuing to run in place.

"sometimes it helps to talk things out, you know."

"and sometimes it hurts. you, in particular. damn it," he said sharply, glaring at her. "stop being all bouncy!" the movement reminded him of the slow-motion running scene kicking off every episode of baywatch - one guys would watch with the tv on mute, just to enjoy the impressive girls in hot red swimsuits, breasts bouncing as they ran.

elena wasn't on the beach with the wind streaming through her unbound hair. she wasn't wearing a curve-hugging bathing suit. she wasn't even wearing makeup.

and somehow, she was sexier than all those beach chicks rolled into one.

"i'm just trying to stay warm," she told him innocently.

"yeah, i bet," he answered, shaking his head and opening the door for her himself. even as he muttered something that didn't sound all that complimentary, he waited until she was settled in before closing the door after her. he may have slammed it shut a little harder than necessary, but that was damon. emotional, impulsive, with a tendency toward recklessness and violence.

and under it all, a born and bred gentleman who treated a woman as she should be treated.

when he felt like it, anyway.


	4. I Know That You Will Catch Me

"a playground? seriously?"

damon was smiling as he pulled into the parking lot outside mystic elementary.

"think of it as an obstacle course."

"what, in case stefan and i face off on the monkey bars?"

"hey," he said, shooting her a look, "i'm the one training you. no questioning my methods." because if she questioned them, she'd discover pretty quickly that he didn't really have any in the first place.

"wait, so -" she paused, waiting until he'd put the car in park and turned to give her his full attention. she ran her tongue over her top lip and silently called herself absolutely shameless.

caroline would've been proud.

"so, what?" damon's eyes had turned to smoke as they followed the path of her tongue, lingered on her mouth.

"i'm just supposed to do what you say?"

"that's the general idea," he responded absently, eyes still fixed on her lips.

she moistened them, then nibbled at her bottom lip.

something darker, more dangerous than desire flickered across his face, and she actually trembled. the look hadn't been gentle or tender, but even as her heart raced she knew all that violence, all that fierce passion, would never be aimed toward her.

in anger, anyway.

this was exactly how she'd envisioned things going. first, she'd get in a little payback for his leaving her to sweat out sexual frustration alone the night before - and then they could both enjoy some mutual payoff.

she desperately wanted to believe it could be that simple.

damon had pried his eyes away, not without a good deal of effort. now he was looking at the empty playground like a military strategist deciding the most advantageous placement for his troops. elena bit back a wicked smile. poor guy didn't even know what he was in for.

she remembered the bartender in atlanta back from the year before, the exotic woman with the full lips and laughing eyes who'd made some passing assessment of damon's... talents. damon had looked lazily at the bartender, acknowledging the compliment with a statement that had elena's pulse skyrocketing.

"i rocked your world," he'd said, sexy devil's smirk in place.

she had a feeling that with damon, it would be more than rocking. it would be... fireworks. explosions. complete and total destruction.

she got out of the car, turned to damon and sent him a deliberately sultry smile.

"i need to warm up a little," she said. "i'm gonna do a couple of laps." there was a challenging gleam in her eye. "are you gonna chase me, damon?"

in an instant, she was in his arms. not exactly the way she'd wanted to be, though.

he had her by the shoulders and those piercing blue eyes locked on hers so intensely - almost murderously - that she caught her breath.

damon had to level his own breathing before he could speak.

"what are you doing, elena? what game are you playing here?" because he knew that look, knew that calculating expression, and it infuriated him to see elena wearing it.

her courage rapidly evaporating, elena swallowed, forced her voice to remain steady. "i'm not playing any game, damon. wow, a little paranoid, are we?" she shifted under his hands, but his grip remained tight.

"if i know anything, elena, it's this face. and not just because it's katherine's. actually, it's funny just how different you guys look - even when you're making the same expression. case in point," he continued before she could open her mouth. "your eyes. such a giveaway. that sort of cunning gleam, it's very katherine and very NOT elena. you're identical, but her eyes don't fit your face."

she was frozen in place, unable to move under his furious glare.

"don't screw with me, elena. don't forget that i spent over a century trying to catch katherine. i'm not playing games. i'll do anything for you, anything to keep you safe." he shook her for emphasis, eyes still blazing. "but i will _not_ play games. i won't be your toy. been there. done that. and i realize this would be a shock to, oh, just about anyone, but if you think i didn't learn my lesson, you're dangerously wrong."

her heart was pounding, but it didn't occur to her to be afraid. instead, she found herself flushing with shame.

"damon, i wasn't - " she tried to find the right words, but they weren't coming. she'd hurt him, she realized. knowing it made her stomach twist with guilt. that hadn't been part of the plan. that was the absolute last thing she'd intended to do.

but she hadn't taken into account his feelings. hadn't paused to consider his past, or what the only other woman he'd ever loved had done to him. without realizing it, she'd done the exact same thing. she'd taken the feelings she knew he had for her and used them for her own amusement.

her eyes were bright, but they weren't dancing anymore. instead, they glistened with a sheen of tears.

"can you let me go?"

he let out a long breath, then released her and took a step back. now his tone was brusque.

"do your warm-up run, okay? five and a half times around is a mile." he knew it for a fact, since he'd stopped by the night before and done a mile himself. he reached into his pocket and pulled out a stopwatch. "what's your average mile time?"

she swallowed, trying to adjust to his sudden businesslike attitude.

"it used to be somewhere around seven minutes, i think," she said softly. "but i haven't done the regular workout thing in ages..."

"okay," he answered shortly. "so we'll aim for under nine today, just to give you some breathing room." they walked together to the track circling the soccer field. it wasn't regulation size - hence the five and a half laps as opposed to the four it took to run a mile around the track at mystic high - since this was an elementary school. she wanted to ask how he knew the precise measurements, then realized she didn't have to. he'd done his homework. it only made her feel guiltier.

"on your mark," damon said, going to stand by the fence and leaning against it. anyone else would've seen a guy perfectly at ease, casual, relaxed. elena knew better. there was tension in every muscle of his body, if you knew that body as well as she did.

and games aside, she wanted to get to know it better. but she'd have to earn that privilege. and she damn well would.

"get ready..."

she bent her right knee, stretched her left leg behind her with her heel off the ground.

"get set..."

she took a deep breath, closed her eyes.

"wait -"

"go."

they spoke simultaneously, but she had his attention and saw his thumb press the button to stop the timer. he was silent as he watched her.

it took all her nerve to walk over to him and mirror a move he'd used on her a handful of times - a move that never failed to set her pulse racing. her hands were gentle as they cupped his face.

"i'm sorry, damon. i don't think of you as a toy. i don't think of this as a game. honestly, i don't know what i think of any of it. you may have noticed things are kind of up and down in my life right now," she said with a wry smile. he didn't return it. this time when she licked her lips, it was because her mouth had gone dry. "i didn't mean to hurt you, or to be careless. you..." she had to stop; her voice was thick with tears. "you matter. a lot. and it scares me.

"just... i get it now, i get how you'd see it as me playing games and messing with you. and maybe i was, in a way. but it wasn't just for the sake of proving that i could make you play, or that i could win, or anything like that. the thing is, i never planned on winning. i don't want you to chase me, damon. i want you to catch me."

a tear slid down her cheek.

"i just... i want you."

she rose on tiptoe and kissed him. it was a quick kiss, but so emotionally charged that his body responded; he couldn't prevent that even if he'd wanted to. slowly, she lowered herself back to the ground, dropped her hands. started to turn away.

for the second time that morning his hands were on her so fast that the breath left her body. she didn't have a chance to brace herself before he crushed his mouth to hers in a savage, desperate kiss. one that said, if i don't do this, i'll go absolutely mad. the world spun, and she would've stumbled all over again if he hadn't caught her. this time, his grip was gentle, but somehow it was more physically disturbing than it had been when he'd grabbed her in anger.

"does that - " she had to pause, close her eyes. his kisses were a drug, leaving her helpless and dizzy. "does that mean i'm forgiven?"

"you make it pretty fucking hard for me to hold a grudge," he answered, and when he smiled she was sure her heart stopped. he was truly the most beautiful person she'd ever laid eyes on.

then, he leaned forward, caught her earlobe between his teeth, tugged. whispered.

"you make it pretty fucking hard." his eyes were wicked when they met hers. before she could respond - before she could launch herself into his arms and devour him - he was spinning her around and nudging her forward. "consider that your pre-warmup. now get going."

her jaw set, and it was her turn to shoot him a dark look.

"you know what, damon? you might matter, and i might want you -"

"might?" he interrupted, that wicked look only raising her blood pressure even higher.

"but that doesn't make you any less of an ass."

he smiled brilliantly - triumphantly.

"i've gotta say, elena - you're right. i did win."

"somehow, i think you always will."

his smile only broadened.

"you might wanna get going, sweetheart. clock's ticking."

tossing one more fierce glare over her shoulder, she took off.


	5. Adriana Salvatore

it was the first thing damon heard when he walked into her house - the sound of elena weeping.

his heart constricted in his chest. he was up the stairs in a literal blur of motion, following the sound of her weeping.

damon was an impulsive person. he didn't often stop to think - he preferred to act, then face the consequences, if it came to that (it usually did). but he found himself standing outside the door to elena's bathroom, listening to the gradual tapering off of her sobs, fighting every muscle in his body to keep himself from breaking the door down all together.

instinct was battling impulse, and that in and of itself was enough to have him hesitating. slowly, and not without a little effort, damon took a breath and retreated. he wouldn't invade what was a private moment, but he sure as hell wouldn't stand there any longer - couldn't, not when the sound of elena crying was ripping him to shreds.

so what the hell was he supposed to do now? if he didn't keep busy, his resolve would evaporate. distance was the only answer, since his acute hearing allowed him to catch the heart-wrenching sound even from the base of the stairs.

in the kitchen, he considered fixing her a bowl of soup, something hot and comforting. because he desperately wanted to comfort her. it was a long dormant part of the myriad traits that made damon salvatore who he was, one that few would guess he even had. but damon was, by nature, a nurturer. he'd just forgotten it.

elena again, he thought with a little smile. she'd uncovered so many qualities in him that had been buried for over a century. he was never sure whether he should thank her or curse her for it.

but when it came down to it, the real person responsible for those softer parts of his character was his mother. god knew giuseppe salvatore didn't have a soft bone in his body. adriana, on the other hand...

in truth, his memories of her were painfully vague. except one. one that stood out from all the rest. one that hurt to even think about thinking about.

the best remedy for a busy brain was one he knew well, and he automatically went to the liquor cabinet in search of brandy. the bottle makers mark was covered with a fine layer of dust; ric was more the scotch whiskey type. even as he thought it, damon spotted the half-empty bottle of johnnie walker and grinned wryly. so predictable.

damon crossed the kitchen, opened one of the glass-plated cupboards which held everything from beer mugs to crystal stemware to a faded yellow sippy-cup emblazoned with the faces of timon and pumba. it made him smile to think of elena as a toddler, waddling around with her drink, probably wearing that serious expression of hers as she sipped from it, careful to avoid spilling even a drop. she would've been a beautiful child, he thought, with those big brandy-brown eyes and luminous smile, drinking her apple juice and wrapping every adult in sight around her pudgy little finger.

apple juice...

and right then, he knew what to do for her.

virginia in autumn all but demanded crisp apple cider heated over the stove. it was soothing, comforting, gentle - all the things he wanted to give elena. even as he rummaged through the refrigerator, he wondered where the hell the idea had come from, why he associated cider with such calming adjectives. he wasn't even paying attention as he filled a glass, microwaved it, then randomly opened drawers until he found a container of cinnamon. because hot cider wasn't the same without cinnamon. again, he frowned - again, he wondered at his own train of thought.

and then he remembered.

it had been a particularly harsh winter when a snowball fight with several neighborhood boys resulted in six year old damon coming down with pneumonia. his father had whisked precious baby stefan away the instant damon started showing signs of sickness; throughout the whole two week period, giuseppe salvatore didn't check on his son a single time. for all he'd known, his eldest son could've been on his deathbed. no matter. he had another son, a back-up to carry on the salvatore name. besides, giuseppe salvatore never showed much interest in damon. even before that winter.

even before he'd killed his mother.

she'd been beautiful. olive-skinned like stefan, but with the vivid, hypnotic blue eyes she'd passed on to damon. lithe, graceful, with delicate features but an almost tangible aura of strength. adriana salvatore was no pushover.

it was because of that very characteristic that she'd remained there beside damon night and day, despite giuseppe's protests and the dangers of catching damon's sickness. she'd while away the hours telling little damon stories, bathing his feverish forehead, and simply soothing him with her presence. but her cure-all was the cider. sometimes she'd add a teaspoon of honey, and when the fever abruptly took a turn and became cold sweats, she doctored the cider with brandy, giving it a kick that unfailingly warmed damon's belly and dulled his senses.

no one noticed when her dusky skin began to pale; no one noticed the chills that started as a light trembling and progressed to full-on, constant shuddering. her breathing became labored until even damon, in his own sick haze, recognized the terrifying sound. it was the same sound that he'd heard rattling in his own chest during the worst of the illness.

he remembered trying to fight his way through the cotton-headed blur, trying to convince her that she had to stop caring for him and start caring for herself. she'd just smile, stroke the hair back from his forehead, and return to the fireside where a pot of cider waited, its scent a comfort in the stifling heat of the room.

he should've seen it, recognized it - the moment when she stopped fighting. she wasn't stupid and had taken some precautions to avoid catching cold. but one evening as snow fell in fat, silent flakes outside the frosted window, she took the cider from him and absentmindedly sipped from her very sick, very contagious, son's cup.

the next morning, damon woke up and took his first easy breath since the pneumonia set in. and knew instantly that something was wrong.

it was the quiet. for so long he'd listened to the rasping sound of his own breathing, later accompanied by his mother's. but some time during the night, she'd taken her last breath.

she'd died with a slight smile on her pale lips.

when damon snapped back to the present, his eyes were bright with tears. but they weren't tears of sadness - in fact, he welcomed them. he hadn't even known his brain had held on to that memory in its cobwebbed corners, and he was grateful for it. so much of his life as a human was shadowed. this was one memory he'd hold on to. and share, he thought. his mother would've smiled, knowing that her son was carrying on her tradition, using her remedy to care for the woman he loved.

as he went upstairs, his brandy in one hand and elena's cider in the other, he breathed a sigh of relief. she wasn't crying anymore. maybe that made the remedy unnecessary; maybe she no longer needed a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold.

his nostalgic smile turned back into its usual wicked grin.

maybe she didn't _need _him. but hell if he couldn't make her want him instead.


	6. Whatever You Want, Elena

elena took the time to dry her hair, dabbed her face with the extra bottle of moisturizer caroline kept at the gilbert house, then used the vanilla lotion that complemented the scent of bubble bath and slathered it over her skin.

the bath had been, if not rejuvenating, calming. soothing. she felt alive again. it had been so long since she'd indulged in such a feminine ritual. now, with her skin glowing and rosy and soft and smooth, she wrapped herself in a threadbare robe the color of ripe peaches and smiled at her reflection.

things would be okay. maybe damon had pulled a potentially deadly - okay, she thought, rolling her eyes, a potentially STUPID move, letting stefan out and proceeding to do god-only-knew what. and while her instincts would never have pushed her to take such dangerous action, damon's had. and she trusted his. she trusted him.

and ultimately, no matter what happened, even if the brotherly bonding thing fell through, as long as damon was in her life, she would be safe. he would protect her. given the opportunity, she'd do the same for him. she'd do anything necessary to take care of him.

but damn it, he was a whole lot faster than she was. and he was incredibly sharp - if something troubling or troublesome was going on (provided he wasn't the one behind it), damon recognized the possible threat and took care of it. he'd lock her in the salvatore cellar if he thought she'd do something risky in an effort to save him. she doubted that damon would ever give her a chance to prove just what lengths she was willing to go to if it meant protecting him.

of course, that was just one more thing that made damon so... unique, special, beautiful. he didn't need her to prove anything to him. he didn't need her to be anything except what she was.

she didn't need him to be anything except what he was.

she padded barefoot down the hall to her room, wondering if it would be entirely selfish to call him and see how things were going on his end.

she just wanted to hear his voice, damn it. she wanted to hear him say her name with that annoying tone of voice that simultaneously said "you just can't stay away from me, can you?" and "what took you so long?" she wanted to hear the way he drew out the second syllable of her name and managed to sound smug, impatient, and full of warmth and caring all at once.

but she wasn't going to give in and call. just the thought of her empty bed made her heart yearn, but tonight, they were at cross purposes. she needed to trust, to be patient, to lie low. she'd done her part, gotten more accomplished than she'd anticipated. now he was doing his, and she wouldn't compromise his attention.

he'd touch bases when he could.

he'd come through. he always did. and in a world like hers where making it through the day alive was an honest-to-god accomplishment, that constancy, that complete and utter faith in someone, meant more to elena than anything.

he meant more to elena than...

no, she wasn't even going down that road right now. no analysis of feelings, just gratitude to have those feelings in the first place. to know that all the things she'd been through had hardened her resolve, her determination, the sense of strength and self she hadn't been entirely aware of having.

yes, klaus had made her a tougher, even rougher, person.

but he hadn't, wouldn't, harden her heart. and that alone was a victory.

he smelled her before she reached the door. not just the soft vanilla scent hovering around her, but the warmth, the hope. the essence of elena, he thought with a little smile.

she walked into the room and came to a dead halt. he heard the way her heartbeat kicked up, the way her breath hitched when her eyes locked on his. for a moment her face registered genuine shock - none of that, "seriously, damon?" crap she'd pulled so many times before, that irritated tone indicating that she wasn't at all surprised to find him waiting.

no, tonight she truly hadn't expected him to be there.

and he truly didn't expect her reaction. but suddenly she was in his arms, hers locked around his neck, and she was shaking, burying her head against his chest, her tears hot and unrestrained.

he was frozen for one pulsing moment before he did what came naturally and picked her up, cradling her gently and carrying her to the bed. when he tried to lower her onto the mattress, her hand clenched on his shoulder and she drew herself back long enough to meet his eyes. they were full of desperation, and right then he knew that nothing and no one could make him let go.

"please," she managed, "please don't - "

"hey, it's okay, elena."

it wasn't okay. this kind of vulnerability was so rare - elena always appeared to have it all together even when she was actually falling apart. he knew it happened, but that she was letting him see that vulnerability? that was something new, and different, and okay, a little terrifying.

honestly, she could've been stark naked in front of him and she wouldn't have been as exposed as she was right then, lying in his arms.

"you thought i wouldn't come," he murmured into her hair.

"no," she admitted, the rush of tears subsiding as she basked in his warm, solid presence. "but i hoped you would."

his tone was impatient even as his hand moved soothingly up and down her back. "damn it, all you have to do is pick up a phone and you know i'll be here. have i ever failed to - "

a flash of elena, alone, abandoned in a hospital bed. pale and weak and literally being drained of life.

"no," she said, voice firm and fierce. "you've never failed me, damon. you didn't know. it wasn't your fault. you didn't know."

he was silent, chin resting on her head, staring into space, remembering.

"i should've called. if i had, it would've all been different. you _never _failed me. it was my fault," she told him, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

this time it was damon whose tone was sharp. "no. none of it has ever been your fault. everything, everything goes back to that dick."

she made a soothing sound, cuddled deeper into his chest.

"can we talk about it tomorrow?"

he could feel the weight of her exhaustion and leaned back so that they lay together, one of his arms wrapped tightly around her, the other lifted to stroke her delicate cheekbone.

"whatever you want, elena."

she was quiet for so long that he thought she was on the brink of sleep. when she did speak, he had to laugh.

"why do you smell like apple juice?"

"because you took me by surprise and i spilled it. and it's cider, not juice."

"my mistake," she said, tilting her head up and looking at him curiously. "so then, why were you in the position to spill apple cider?"

"i told you; you took me by surprise."

she stuck her tongue out at him.

odd to feel embarrassed by the whole comfort thing, he thought now, drinking in that cute face lit with youth and laughter.

god he loved knowing he could make her laugh. every time she smiled at him it was a fucking gift, the kind you never expected to be lucky enough to receive. the kind you never stopped being thankful for.

"maybe i had a home remedy for when people feel shitty," he said finally.

"apple cider?"

"shut up."

"well, where is it?"

"as you already pointed out, it's on my shirt."

"but i want it," she told him, sulking. he couldn't help it; he leaned in to nip that full pouty lip of hers.

"if you want it, you have to let me get up."

she pursed that beautiful mouth of hers, considering.

"what's so special about this home remedy, anyway?"

he shifted uncomfortably. "uh, it works?"

"stop dodging."

he let out a dramatic sigh. "maybe it's something my mom used to make me when i was sick."

he was avoiding her gaze and didn't see the tears brightening her eyes, wouldn't have noticed them if one hadn't slid down her cheek and dropped onto the v of flesh exposed by the collar of his shirt.

"did you miss the part where i said remedy? as in, something to make you feel _better_?"

"damon..."

"it's just a drink, elena."

no, she thought. it was so, so much more. the sweetness of the gesture was all but unbearable. and he didn't even know just how much he was giving her by sharing something so intimate of the life he'd lived, once upon a time.

_ "you should've met me in 1864..."_

"so," she said softly, tentatively. "damon salvatore was a mama's boy?"

that made him grin. "i guess so. i don't really remember."

she searched his face. she didn't know why she was so certain of the fact, but she knew it wasn't the passage of time that dimmed his memory of his mother. no, it wasn't because it had been so long ago; it was because he'd lost her before he'd had a chance to know her.

"you were young, when you lost her."

it wasn't a question, but for some reason, it didn't surprise him that she knew.

"six."

so stefan's memories of their mother had to be nearly non-existent.

which meant damon's were that much more precious.

"what happened?"

"i happened," he said, eyes focused on something beyond elena's perception. he was hurting, she thought. she could back off, could leave him be.

or she could open the door a little wider. did he have any idea just how much humanity beat in that perfectly-carved chest of his?

"typical damon," she said, twisting a lock of his hair around her finger. sometimes it was difficult to tell if it was black or blue. like so much of damon, even his hair color was lost somewhere in the endless between.

he cocked a brow. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"do you have to blame yourself for everything?"

"only the things that are my fault."

she made a little 'hmph' noise. "well if you're gonna be all logical about it."

his little snort of laughter had her lips curving against his throat.

"so what'd you do this time?" though her voice was teasing, it was also filled with compassion. she wouldn't treat the issue with kid gloves. he deserved more.

"i got sick," he said. unconsciously, he gripped her closer. "and she got sick because of it."

"a-ha! so you're the one to blame for the concept of contagiousness."

"smartass."

"i'm just saying, you got sick, so your mom got sick... and if that's your fault, it basically means that every person who's ever been sick since the mid nineteenth century has you to thank for it. hey, wait a minute," she went on, drawing away long enough to shoot him an accusatory glare. "i had a cold a few weeks ago. i think you owe me an apology."

he was smiling. the pain was lifting, the weight of guilt lessening.

"sorry."

"i'm not sure how sincere that was, but i'll take what i can get. an apology from damon salvatore is no small thing."

"don't get used to it."

she scoffed at the idea. "never." after a long, drawn out silence, she spoke again, gently. "it wasn't your fault, damon. kids get sick. parents take care of them, and then parents get sick. it's what a good parent does, you know? if they really love you, they'll risk anything. they'll take care of you. you can call them at one o'clock in the morning, drunk and stupid and stranded, and they'll come get you.

"they may not even know they're putting themselves in danger by taking care of you. even if they did, it wouldn't matter. they'll be there, and they might get sick because of it. and sometimes, they don't get better." the tears were thick in her voice, but she went on anyway.

"i guess at the end of the day, it's about love. loving someone enough to do whatever it takes to keep them safe."

she looked up at him, saw that he was watching her with a world of emotion swirling in those hypnotic eyes.

"i think if it had been me, my parents would've hated themselves. they would've felt like they'd failed me. so instead of blaming myself, i have to remember that this is how they would've wanted it. i didn't fail as their daughter; they succeeded as my parents. it wasn't about me screwing up. it was about them doing whatever they had to do to make everything better."

her words filled his head, and he saw his reflection in the pools of her eyes. saw his own tears glimmering back at him.

"well," he said, taking a deep breath, "if you're gonna be all logical about it."

she smiled up at him luminously, and she quite literally took his breath away.

"i still want my cider," she said, poking his chest. "will you make me more?"

he extracted himself from her grip and took her chin in his hand, gave her a long kiss that had her body sighing in complete contentment.

"give me a minute."

when he came back upstairs he held two mugs, both doctored with the kick of brandy and the spice of cinnamon. elena was sitting up, wearing one of the lace camisoles she always slept in. this one was faded pink, and with her face free of makeup and her eyes glowing as they watched him come into her room, she looked young and soft and perfect.

she'd turned down the left side of the comforter; it was an unmistakable invitation. she saw his eyes roam to the empty space beside her and managed a little smile.

"i was hoping you'd stay," she told him, and that hope was reflected in her eyes. "i just... i really don't want to be alone."

he stood at the foot of the bed and waited. after a minute she scowled at him.

"it's always gotta be your way, doesn't it?"

he only smiled.

"fine! i don't want to be alone. because i want to be with you."

"get in line," he said, grinning. she threw a pillow at him, which he managed to dodge without spilling either mug. "watch it," he told her, coming to the bedside and pressing a warm mug into her hands. "this is special stuff right here."

she took a sip, watching him over the lip of the mug. she identified the heat of the brandy, the sharp taste of the cider, and something she couldn't put her finger on. she paused to take another sip, then smiled slowly.

"cinnamon," she murmured, eyes closed as she savored the drink. she opened them again, and they were filled with an emotion that could only be described with a single word. for now, it was enough to see it there, beaming up at him; the word itself didn't matter right now.

"it tastes like home," she told him. "it's perfect."

"i made it, didn't i?"

she just rolled her eyes, then reached for the remote on beside her lamp. the tv was tucked in a nook across from her bed; he'd never noticed it, probably because she usually had all kinds of things in front of it on her desk, hiding the screen from view.

"you're going to stay, right?"

"i don't know why you're asking again. it only takes once, elena."

he came around to the other side of the bed and kicked off his shoes. she'd spent what felt like a lifetime with damon, yet the sight of him doing something so normal, so everyday, surprised her. she wasn't sure she'd ever seen him do it before.

"what is it?" he asked, catching the odd expression on her face.

"just enjoying the view," she said, the smile returning. "did i mention the no-shirt rule? it's kind of important."

"and hypocritical," he commented, leaning over and snapping the strap of her cami.

"well, it's my bed. i don't follow the rules, i just make them."

"that's curious reasoning you've got there, elena."

"i think of it as unique. lose the shirt, salvatore."

"this was all a ploy to get me naked, wasn't it?"

"no... but i might as well take advantage of the benefits."

he unbuttoned the shirt and tossed it aside.

"happy now?"

"it's your own fault you're so pretty," she told him, grinning mischievously. then she hesitated. "if you're uncomfortable..." her eyes strayed to his dark wash jeans, rose to meet his again. "i'm not implying anything, just saying."

"what would you have been implying?" he asked, all innocence.

"that you're... incorrigible," she decided.

"i like that," he said with a smirk, then walked out of the room.

"what - damon?"

he came back in wearing a pair of jeremy's gym shorts and her mouth went dry. did he have to be so goddamn sexy?

"can't help it," he grinned.

she rolled her eyes. "so i take it damon salvatore doesn't do boxers _or_ briefs."

"it's so hard to find anything that fits."

"yeah, that ego of yours is pretty enormous," she said drily.

"oh yeah. that too," he told her, still grinning.

he slipped into bed beside her and could hear the thud of her heart.

he turned to her, keenly aware of the tension in every muscle of her body.

"it's just me, elena."

she looked at him steadily, then slowly relaxed.

"you were right, before," she said, sounding a bit begrudging.

"of course i was. about what?"

"being... ready. i'm not. it's... it's too important. it's too big."

that damn grin of his flashed. "it _is _pretty big."

"i'm serious."

"who says i'm not?"

"i just need to be close to you," she continued, ignoring him. the words were hard to say. closeness was so dangerous, not just because everyone she cared about was a potential target for klaus. it was dangerous because it meant the possibility of a hurt so much greater than the physical.

"stop worrying," damon said, pulling her so that her back was against his chest, their bodies curved together. she took his hand in hers, kissed each knuckle with heartwarming tenderness.

"you make things so much better," she whispered. almost as an afterthought, she remembered the remote in her hand, aimed it at the tv and hit play.

"what are we watching?" he asked, rubbing his thumb over her hers in a soothing, rhythmic motion.

"when i was sick," she answered, turning her head to look up at him, "my mom... she'd lie down with me and we'd watch this, over and over. she never got tired of it. i think i still know all the words..."

the disney logo filled the small screen, and damon smiled.

"another layer of elena gilbert revealed. i never figured you for a princess type," damon said, kissing her forehead.

"shh," she murmured, turning over so that she could lay her head on his chest. his fingers ran idly through her hair.

he was quiet, watching her as she watched the screen. was she even aware that her lips moved in time with the narrator's? probably not, which only made it that much sweeter.

as the once-upon-a-time opening scene came to a close, elena raised her head and looked at damon very seriously. and her voice drowned out the narrator's as she spoke the same words.

"and as the years passed, he fell into despair, and lost all hope... for who could ever learn to love a beast?"

she planted a kiss over his heart, lay her head down again, and was asleep by the first song.

damon stayed awake for a long time, watching the story of love unfolding between a beauty and a beast.


	7. Just You

when the overhead light flashed on, elena instinctively pulled the covers over her head.

"oh, no you don't!"

damon's voice was cheerful as he caught the blanket and tugged it down again. when her grip tightened, he gave the comforter an easy yank and pulled it off the bed entirely.

he met elena's deadly glare with a smile.

"cold, sweetheart?"

she watched his gaze drop and automatically folded her arms over her chest. "of course i'm cold. you stole my blanket."

"just doing my civic duty and all that. up and at 'em, sunshine. time to go practice fighting the vampires, demons, forces of darkness. all that fun stuff."

he wasn't paying attention to her as he absentmindedly pressed a mug of coffee into her hands, then turned to rifle through her drawers. she may have protested if she wasn't so intrigued by his statement.

"damon," she asked, tone coaxing him to look back at her over his shoulder. "did you just quote buffy the vampire slayer?"

"busted." he grinned. "what, i'm not allowed to have layers? even the donkey has layers, elena."

she shook her head, smiling in spite of herself.

"besides," he continued, finding a pair of spandex-y pants that would be perfect for working out in - and would show off her ass to perfection. a guy deserved certain perks if he was getting up at five am for a girl. "buffy's hot. and i watched for your sake, anyway."

she caught the pants he tossed her way, brow arched. "sure you did."

"hey, that tweed guy know his stuff. "

"gillies," she supplied, smiling and sipping her coffee.

"giles," he corrected automatically. it took a moment for it to register, but he looked up when elena laughed.

"you sure know your buffy," she said, climbing out of bed and stretching so that her stomach showed beneath the tank. damon pulled his gaze away and back to the drawer until he found the article of clothing he'd been looking for.

"you set me up for that," he told her, pulling out the leotard-like outfit. in his mind's eye, he still saw the way it molded to her body like a second skin. still, he'd had no trouble slipping his fingertips beneath the stretchy fabric. he toyed with it for a moment now, remembering the way her heart had raced the last time she'd worn it, the way she'd caught her breath, the way she'd trembled.

he turned, gave her a look. "very sneaky." her smile was entirely unapologetic. "i like it. now get dressed. we've got places to go and asses to kick."

he handed her the top, watched her eyes latch on to it, saw the awareness flare as she looked back up at him. she swallowed, face suddenly flushed.

"problem?"

she met his eyes, bit her lip, then slowly shook her head. she hated knowing how aware he was of his effect on her and tried to shrug it off.

"out," she said, giving him a light shove. "i'll be down in a minute."

"mm hmm," he murmured, standing in front of her and stroking her cheek absentmindedly. "if i haven't mentioned it before, you look good in the morning, elena."

before she could respond, he was gone.

forty-five minutes later, elena's hand stilled mid-punch. her mouth dropped open.

"you met MICHAEL?"

damon had her pinned in a heartbeat.

"stay focused," he told her, eyes searing into hers. "it takes a split second to lose, elena."

she pushed him away; he didn't budge.

"get off," she snapped, trying again.

"get me off," he countered.

she smiled. "if that's what you want..."

he rolled away from her, frowning. "i didn't mean it like that."

"didn't you though?" she was still grinning as she watched him, lying on his back and breathing heavily, though not from exertion. his eyes were closed and she could tell he was mentally calming himself down.

so, like any good fighter, she seized her opportunity and was on him in a flash, straddling his hips, stake poised inches over his chest.

"i win," she said smugly.

her world spun - she spun - as he reversed their positions and easily disarmed her. "wrong. i told you this already. right here?" he pressed a hand to her breastbone, dangerously close to more interesting territory. "what is this, elena?"

"solid bone," she managed after a second. her pulse was humming and it took conscious effort to keep her breathing even.

his eyes drifted down, momentarily mesmerized by the rise and fall of her chest.

her knee jerked up, and he saw stars.

"holy _fuck_," he growled, trance broken as he reflexively curled into the fetal position. "fuck, that was not cool."

"you should've stayed focused," she chastised.

"oh, i was focused," he muttered, riding out the pain.

elena watched with amusement, getting to her feet and extending a hand.

"if you're so focused," she asked, reaching for her water bottle, "why aren't you doing anything about it?"

"weights," he instructed, taking the water and replacing it with free-weights. "start with the flyes."

"i _hate_ flyes," she groaned, accepting the weights and lowering herself to the training bench. she extended her arms out to the side, one weight in each hand, then raised them upward until the dumbbells banged against each other in the middle.

"you're cheating," he told her, putting a hand between the spot where the dumbbells met so that she couldn't use the force of the clash to propel each movement.

"i loathe you." she bit the words off but reached the 25 count, arms practically weeping. it wasn't until she lowered the weights that she saw the number printed on the ends. "when did i hit ten pounds?" she asked, surprised.

he smiled. "couple days after you hit seven. i wasn't sure you noticed."

"my arms did," she mumbled, turning over on the bench and laying face down to repeat the flyes in reverse. "you never answered my question."

"what question?" he admired the view of her slim form, noted with satisfaction that her exposed skin shone with sweat.

"why - " she grunted, sheer willpower getting her through the last five reps. "why aren't you doing anything about it?"

"about what?"

"stop _doing_ that," she said, flipping over again, then rising to do tricep dips and bicep curls.

"doing what?"

she chose not to dignify that with an answer. besides, her arms were absolutely _dying_.

"last night you're telling me you're not ready; today you're all, why wait. make up your mind, little miss fickle."

"i'm not fickle," she said forcefully, finishing up the arm routine and dropping the weights. she sat on the edge of the bench and, balancing on her tailbone, raised and lowered her legs, bending them as she pulled her knees to her chest. leg exercises weren't bad, but then, her lower body was far more conditioned than her upper.

when she lowered her legs again, damon pressed a hand to her abdomen, testing. "keep at it and you'll have abs as sexy as mine," he told her with his devil's grin.

"i don't want to keep at it," she grumbled, getting up again, approaching the wall and pressing her back to it. the chair exercise was nearly as abhorrent as the dumbbell flyes, but she set her chin and slid her back against the wall til her legs were bent at a ninety degree angle to the floor. she took long breaths, forcing her muscles to maintain the position. "i never would've pegged you for a drill sergeant," she commented bitterly. as always, around the thirty second mark, her body started to shake under its own weight. she clenched her teeth, determined to last the full minute. she almost always caved by the fifty-second mark.

"sure you would've. it's not about being a drill sergeant. it's about keeping you alive."

"isn't it always?"

three, two - she dropped to the floor as the second hand hit twelve, gasping, muscles limp.

"no wallowing. way to go," he said approvingly. "you hit the full minute." he got her bottle of water, uncapped it and passed it to her.

surprised, she glanced up at him. "i didn't know you were keeping track."

"of you?" he shook his head. "always."

there was a long silence as they simply looked at each other. elena was the one to break it.

"thank you," she said quietly, seriously. "not just for the workouts - definitely for the workouts, but also... just for being here."

"you're not the worst company in the world, elena." he was smiling, and for a moment she was mentally transported back to that day in atlanta.

"can we go away again?" she asked, the words out of her mouth before she'd known she was thinking them.

"road trip?" he was always in sync with her. always.

"something like that."

"we've got business to deal with, elena." he brushed a piece of hair out of her face, saw her expression go from happy, hopeful, to woeful, wistful. "but it won't be there forever. we'll go somewhere, do something, sure. of course, i won't give you any warning - i'll probably drug you and throw you in the car or something fun like that."

"kidnapping," she said with a little smile. "such a necessary element to any road trip."

his eyes turned serious as he gestured for her to scoot forward. when she did, he slipped behind her and started kneading the muscles of her shoulders. the sound she let out stirred his blood - but then, didn't everything about elena set him on fire?

he leaned in close, and for a moment he stopped rubbing her arms and put his around her, drawing her back, holding her close.

"right now, i can't afford to lose focus," he told her, voice low, breath tickling her ear. her neck tilted, and his grip tightened. her scent was clean of perfumes, 100% elena, 100% sexy. he wanted to bury his face in that neck, kiss her, play with her, tease her, make her lose all sense of time and place and self.

which was exactly why he had to step back.

"i told you," he went on, releasing her but continuing to massage her back. "michael's in the game now. you ever play chess, elena?"

"dad used to try and get me to learn," she answered, smiling at the memory. "it never really took with me, though."

"well, michael is our king. and right now, we've got klaus in check - which is one step away from checkmate, which is one step away from dead. all our pieces are being put in place. and in the meantime, we've got the queen. she's a very, very valuable player. so usually, you want to keep her in the background, using her only if absolutely necessary. she needs to be protected."

"what about what _she_ wants? what if _she'd_ rather be on the playing field?"

"only if absolutely necessary," he repeated. "and i'm doing my damnedest to keep you out. it's too much to risk, elena. maybe you think you're expendable, but i sure as hell don't. so," he went on, moving with her when she leaned back against him, resting her head on his shoulder and taking one of his hands, toying absently with his fingers. "chess. it's all about strategy. i'm putting mine together, and i'm going to win. _we're _going to win."

now he freed his hand, lifted it to her face, angled her neck so she was looking up at him, her mouth full and hot and close. he couldn't help it - he had to taste her. in that moment, it seemed a matter of life and death. he captured her lips, jolted by the electricity that snapped between them.

she turned her body into his, moving into the kiss, moaning low in her throat as her tongue explored tentatively. his mouth plundered hers, and her hands gripped his shoulders, holding him close.

time moved in slow motion; time sped up. the world toppled, shifted, dropped out from beneath them.

everything was right.

everything was so damn wrong.

so damon, with no small effort, pulled back, her murmur of protest nearly killing him.

"soon, elena," he managed, breathing raggedly. "after he's gone, and you're safe."

she was a puddle in his arms; the sexual frustration made her want to beg, and she shut her eyes, clenched her jaw, afraid she actually would. she had to wait a moment before she trusted herself to speak.

"when?"

"homecoming," he answered instantly, and she realized he'd had the date in mind for a while. "less than a week. and then he's out, and it's just you and me."

"and stefan," she said without thinking. she felt damon flinch.

"preferably not," he told her, voice light. but the sudden tension turning his body to rock betrayed him.

"i was just thinking - i... if he comes back -"

"i appreciate the vote of confidence," damon muttered, standing up, needing distance.

"sorry. but part of me doesn't... i want klaus gone," she said, standing as well and grabbing damon's hands, forcing him to look at her. she could feel him pushing her away, refused to allow it. "i just don't want things to change."

he softened, put his arms around her and pulled her close. "things always change, elena. but you're the one who can set the path in whatever direction you want it to go."

"i'm not so sure," she whispered, listening to the calming rhythm of his heartbeat. "i want everything to go back to normal..."

as she said it, her arms came around him, and she held tight. "i don't want this to go back, though. i don't want to... i don't want to lose this, damon."

"hey, i'm immortal. so it's safe to say i'll be around for a good long time."

"you'd better," she said, suddenly fierce. "don't you dare leave me. i need this. i... i need you. so, whatever happens, it's you and me, okay?"

he kissed the top of her head, kept his lips there for several beats before stepping back and holding her at arms length.

"you and me. deal."

"and... after homecoming..."

he found it incredibly sweet when she blushed.

"after homecoming, we'll break tradition and do things prom style."

"prom," she repeated, looking at him curiously.

"prom _night_," he corrected, giving her a playful nudge.

her mouth moved into a smile as she looked up at him. "okay," she said after a moment, taking a breath. her eyes glowed with trust, and with that beautiful, seductive word he refused to even think.

if she'd seen her reflection, she'd have panicked. the love was so clear it was nearly blinding.

"okay," she said again. "after the dance... we'll celebrate."

"i'll bring the champagne," he promised.

"and me?" she asked, head cocked to the side. the ends of her hair brushed his arm, and he moved it so he could toy with the end of her ponytail, curling it around his fingers. "what should i bring?"

"you." he kissed her again, gently, rested his brow against hers, closed his eyes, drank her in. "just you, elena."


	8. This Magic Moment

"what can i do, damon? there has to be something i can do."

elena watched him pacing in front of the fireplace, knew he was mentally going over every step of the plan. when she spoke, he paused, turned to her and offered a ghost of a smile.

"you can stay alive, elena. that's all i've ever wanted you to do."

she rose from the couch and took his hand before he could resume pacing.

"you're gonna wear a hole in the carpet if you keep that up," she said, pulling him toward the couch.

"hmm. can't have that. it's a nice carpet."

"you must really be losing it if you're worried about a rug," she commented, stretching out on the couch cushions and resting her head in damon's lap. he absentmindedly stroked her hair, blue eyes studying her soberly.

"do i have something on my face?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at him.

"does beauty count as something?"

she rolled her eyes at the question. "of course. i mean, if we're talking about mine."

he laughed, and the sound was like music to her ears.

"relax, damon. it's going to be fine." she held his hand, squeezed it tight. she'd been repeating the mantra in her head all day. it's going to be fine. everything would be fine. he would come home to her, and they could finally be together without this dreadful weight on their shoulders. they could be free, just her and damon, together, celebrating life.

"you really believe that?"

"damon salvatore, don't tell me that cocky arrogance of yours is failing you now."

he grinned. "it's only arrogance if it's not true."

elena arched a brow and bit back a smile. her tone was dry when she answered him. "yup. there's the damon i know and love."

it was a jolt for both of them, both literally and figuratively. damon recovered first, let his signature smirk curve his lips.

"don't get all lovey-dovey on me now," he said easily. though it hurt, he swept a finger over the line that appeared between her brows, smoothing away her frown. "elena, chill out. it's a figure of speech."

she was silent, and looking up at him, her eyes were full of gratitude. he'd be damned if he wanted her fucking gratitude, but for now, he let it go. he hardly needed one more thing to obsess over.

"you want to know what hooked me, damon? what really got me hooked on you?"

"my stunning good looks," he answered without hesitation, and his playful tone had her breathing easy again.

"other than that," she replied, smiling. "there have been a lot of moments. from this one, to the very first. when i met you, and you did that ridiculous, gallant little hand kiss, playing the role of gentleman."

"playing?!" his tone was indignant, and she felt a clutching in her heart as emotion swamped her. still, she smiled.

"do you remember - " she cut herself off, shook her head. "of course you remember. it was the day of klaus' ritual. the day that you made me drink your blood."

he was momentarily incapable of speech.

"it's so fun to take you by surprise," elena said, amused. "it's hard to do, so when i pull it off it's pretty damn satisfying."

"was that a joke, then?"

her expression turned serious as she took the hand she held and kissed it softly. "no. and, okay, it took a while for me to get over being totally pissed at you. but then... i don't know. the day stefan went to find a cure for you - the night, really... sheriff forbes had come and basically had me prisoner in her office. and god, i was furious damon. i'm not sure i've ever been that mad in my life.

"but i was also so desperate. all i could think was that i hadn't forgiven you for doing it. you'd come to me, and you'd asked for my forgiveness, and i told you i needed time. but that's when i figured it out. that's when i knew i was in trouble."

"THAT'S when you knew? you didn't figure you were in trouble when you were in police custody?"

she shrugged that off. "different kind of trouble. besides, i knew i wasn't in custody - they were just trying to keep me from doing something stupid, to keep me out of the way til they had you."

"damn good job they did of that. i wasn't thinking clearly that night - obviously - but later? talk about angry. i was angry as hell. risking your life to hang out with a vampire who wasn't just desperate and dying, but was also fucking delirious? especially after what happened with rose, and how she'd gone after you?"

"shut up and let me finish my story," she said, lifting herself up so she could look him directly in the eye as she spoke. "so there i am, locked in the office at town hall, freaking the hell out, feeling so incredibly helpless. i just wanted to be there with you, to hold your hand. i didn't want you to be alone." her voice was thick, but she held back tears. "i was thinking about everything you'd done for me, all the things _everyone_ has done for me while i sat there and let them fight my battles."

"it was never like that -"

she pressed a finger to his lips. "i believe i told you to shut up."

he smiled, shook his head at her. "yes ma'am."

"damn right. anyway. i was sick of it. i was so sick of other people risking their lives for my sake. and you, you of all people, you were going to die alone because you'd gone to save my best friends from klaus and not only did that fail - hey, no talking," she said before he could argue. "i mean it failed because the jackass had backup plans - you didn't fail where it counted most; you kept them safe. but in the process, you went and got yourself bitten. it happened because of me. and i remembered rose, i remembered how horrible it had been, and knowing you were going through that without anyone to take care of you, without anyone to look over you... it just killed me.

"so i grabbed a chair, smashed the window, and jumped."

"you did WHAT?! that window is at least two stories high! there's a few feet of garden along the wall but if you jumped too far - concrete! for the love of god elena, you could've killed yourself, damn it!"

"maybe," she said, "but i didn't. the thing is, i didn't realize i'd almost done exactly that until later. all i was thinking at the time - all i could think of was you. and how i had to find you, had to be with you, and screw everything else.

"i didn't _think_ damon. not rationally, anyway. i just knew, i knew there was only one way to get to you, and it was out that window. and hey, everything worked out, right? because here we are."

"i should kill you now for gross stupidity."

she leaned forward, dusted his lips with a kiss. "i was so desperate. so when i figured out that i'd done something that was, yeah, pretty stupid, it occurred to me that i'd been so, so unbelievably scared that i'd lose you, which is exactly why i did that stupid thing in the first place.

"i'm stronger because of it, you know. that night, i proved something to myself. i proved that i can take care of myself, i can stand on my own two feet, i don't have to hide behind anyone. if i want something enough, i can get it. and i did, didn't i?"

"gross stupidity," he muttered again.

"yeah. almost as stupid as forcing someone to drink blood to make sure that no matter what, you wouldn't lose them."

she paused to smile radiantly at him.

"so yeah. suddenly i got it. why you'd done that. because when you care enough, you do really, really stupid things - and you don't stop to think about them until it's too late. how could i blame you for acting so irrationally when i did the same thing to save you?

"so that's when i knew. that's when i knew you had me. you had me then, and you have me now."

damon couldn't speak. he felt... absolution. if things went wrong, if he was going to die that night, well, that would royally suck. but at least he'd die knowing he'd truly been forgiven, and that it was an act of rash impulse that made the woman he loved realize how much she cared for him.

that she'd figured out her feelings for him as a direct result of his having done something totally insane and impulsive.

her feelings for him weren't borne of pity. and they had nothing to do with her reaching out to him because he was the only one she could reach out to. she didn't care about him because he was the leftover salvatore brother, the only option left.

she had those feelings for him because he was exactly what he was. he was the one she wanted. she hadn't gotten stuck with him by default. she'd _chosen_ him.

he pulled her toward him, kissed her slow and sweet.

"everything about you glows, elena. don't ever let that light go out."

"i'll always have you to make sure it doesn't," she answered, resting her brow against his and breathing him in. this moment. this was the moment she figured out something else. something huge, and scary, and beautiful.

he drew back, kissed her forehead and stood up.

"time to get this show on the road." he smiled.

"if you get yourself killed, i'm going to kill you," she responded darkly. when he laughed, she glared. "shut up."

"you keep saying that," he said, kissing her again. "it's pretty rude. but i guess it's okay, because later?" something flared in his eyes - something caught between love and lust. her pulse jumped. "i'm not gonna have to tell you to shut up. because you're not gonna be able to speak by the time i'm done with you."

he felt her heart start to race and grinned a dangerous grin.

"keep the champagne on ice, okay?"

"just come home." she worked up a grin of her own, fighting back the terror. she believed in him. so really, there was no reason to be terrified, was there?

"you know i will."

"i do know," she said, grabbing his hand and pressing it to her chest. her heartbeat was erratic, her cheeks flushed, her eyes lit with anticipation. "because if you can't tell, you and i have some unfinished business."

he laughed, kissed her lavishly.

"don't worry, sweetheart. i have every intention of finishing. and then starting all over again."

with those words and one last kiss, damon left her standing in the doorway. and thought that there was nothing more wonderful in the world than the knowledge that when he came back, elena gilbert, the true love of his life, would be waiting.


	9. Where Did it All Go Wrong?

she felt like a virgin on her wedding night.

or what she assumed a virgin on her wedding night would feel. excited, tingly with anticipation.

terrified.

elena kept hearing bree the bartender's words from the trip she and damon had taken to atlanta.

"he's great in bed, isn't he?"

oh, god, she was in over her head.

and why was she obsessing in the first place? it wasn't like she'd never had sex. and okay, maybe she wasn't some crazy firecracker between the sheets, but she'd never gotten any complaints.

then again, she'd only been with two guys, one of whom was matt. at the time, matt had no one to compare her to. and hell, for all she knew, the first time matt slept with someone else he'd thought, "ohh, so that's what all the fuss is about!"

with stefan, it had been different. it had been soft and sweet and slow. and when it wasn't, somehow it still _felt_ that way. because even if things were a little more frantic, a little wilder, it was stefan. stefan, who had cherished her, who had once seen a bruise he'd left on her skin and been completely horrified by the thought that he'd hurt her.

it hadn't hurt her, she thought now. it had - and she could admit this, in privacy, with no one to judge her - it had been... intense, a little dangerous, a little scary.

and damn it, it had been a turn on. a brief, fleeting glimpse of the dark side of sex.

elena knew, absolutely knew, that damon would bring that darkness out of hiding. that he'd share a new world with her. he wouldn't treat her carefully, he wouldn't hold back. he would take, and he would lose control.

and he would give.

oh, god, she wanted him home, safe. it wasn't fair that she had to wait and worry and wonder.

no, she told herself, could practically hear damon's voice in her head telling her to stop with the self-pitying crap. no, she thought with a little smile. damon wasn't gentle or delicate with his words, would use them to slap her if he thought it was the right thing to do.

but then he'd flip on her, lapse into moments of such tenderness her heart all but drowned in it, in those gentle, delicate words so few knew he was capable of. and rather than a slap, they were a caress.

either way, somehow he managed to rock her to her very soul.

she'd considered a sexy little corset, had almost spun curls into her hair, had even slicked bright, sultry red over her lips.

and when she'd looked in the mirror, she'd seen katherine.

so instead, she came to the conclusion that she knew was, ultimately, the right one. she wouldn't play femme fatale for the night. she was simply elena. and that, she knew, was all he wanted her to be.

now she wore the jeans and shirt he'd left her in. beneath it was a lacy black bra and matching string bikini panties, nothing more, nothing less. sex and simplicity. it's what she wanted, what he wanted, what they needed.

minutes were bleeding into hours, and elena had to exercise serious self control to keep from biting her nails or pacing or tearing her damn hair out. as the hour hand crept from nine to ten, her heart started pounding, anxiety making her shaky.

damon would remedy that with a quick shot of kentucky bourbon, and with no other options coming to mind, elena did the same. the liquor burned her belly, warm and comforting, the scent reminding her of damon in a strangely pleasant way.

only damon salvatore could pull off smelling like just a hint of liquor without coming off as a stumbling drunk.

she went to his room, where she did indeed have a bottle of champagne on ice, paced the rug at the foot of his bed, worried her bottom lip. every other second she drew her phone out of her pocket, checking the screen, nerves mounting. the ringer was on loud, but maybe she was too worked up to hear it. or maybe he hadn't called because he couldn't. maybe everything had gone wrong. maybe... oh, god, there were so many maybes.

she sat down on the bed, took a long cleansing breath, tried to employ some of the exercises taught in a single yoga session she, bonnie and caroline had taken on a whim.

all she could remember was the three of them trying to fight back laughter as they attempted bending their bodies into highly undignified positions; caroline eventually got them kicked out by breaking out into a giggling fit during the downward dog pose.

elena smiled at the memory, glad for the brief reprieve from her tension.

and then, of course, remembered why she was tense in the first place, instantly reversing her tentative grip on calm.

when she heard the door open, her heart leapt into her throat. a dozen thoughts chased each other through her head - should she have taken the time to light candles? had the corset really been too much? was the simple red lace too little? why hadn't she turned down the covers and made the bed a little more inviting? why hadn't she thought of how she'd greet him? should she wait there in bed, should she lose the clothes and wait like some sort of reward keeping the sheets warm?

oh, god, she was in so very, very over her head.

she was standing there, eyes closed, brow furrowed, chewing her lip and tapping restless fingers on the leg of her jeans when he walked in. he saw the way her hands were shaking, noted the flush in her cheeks in this single moment when her guard was completely down. before she even realized he'd come to the door, he was across the room, holding her like a buoy keeping him above water in a hurricane.

and she knew instantly that something had gone wrong.

"hey, damon? damon, what happened?" she tried to draw back, to look at him, but his arms tightened in a rib-crushing grip.

instinct had her hand moving from the small of his back to the nape of his neck. she leaned back a little, just enough so she could see his face, and her gut clenched. the pain in his eyes was beyond anything she'd ever seen.

he looked, she realized suddenly, defeated.

this time when her hand swept up the length of his back, reached his neck, she slid her fingers into his hair and pulled him toward her, kissing him softly, trying to ease the ache by pouring herself into him, by warming his chill with her heat.

"come here," she murmured, linking his fingers with hers and sitting. when he just stood there, looking down at her, she infused her voice with sharpness. "damon salvatore, i said come here."

he shook his head slowly.

"i fucked up. i don't even know where or when or how. but i fucked it up."

he dropped to his knees and lay his head in her lap, repeating the words again and again until elena was sure she'd break under the weight of his misery.

but no, he needed her strength. he needed her.

"will you sit with me, damon?"

he lifted his head, looked at her dazedly. rose, sat on the bed, stared into space, jaw clenching and unclenching. he was, she knew, reliving the night, going over it step by step, trying to pinpoint the moment when he'd lost control.

or maybe he knew exactly when it had happened, exactly when the power shifted from him back to klaus. either way, the thought was eating at him, killing him.

"damon, look at me." when he flinched away from her touch, the jolt of pain was physical, but she gritted her teeth and reached out again, took his chin, turned his face to hers. "whatever happened? whatever went wrong? it couldn't have been your fault. you had every base covered, damon. so whatever wrench was thrown into all this, it wasn't your fault."

"stefan saved him," damon said. his tone was entirely empty of emotion; his eyes stared through her. "everything went exactly the way it was supposed to. and then he saved him. i was so close. i was so fucking close."

and then, without warning, damon shoved her away, got to his feet. he radiated passion, frustration, pure unadulterated fury.

"so don't fucking tell me it wasn't my fault! it was my brother, it was my brother who fucked it all up. i had a stake in that fucking bastard. i missed his heart. i fucking missed his heart."

"damon, it doesn't matter. it doesn't matter. let's just put it away, just for now. let's just be. that's all i want, damon." she followed his lead, stood up, approached him, cupped his face in her hands.

everything. all he could think was that everything he wanted was right there in front of him.

and he deserved none of it. every goddamn thing he touched went to shit.

it wasn't happening again. all he'd ever done was fuck up, endanger her, cast a shadow over her once normal life. and the one chance he'd had to fix all the mistakes, to put it all behind them, to start over...

didn't matter. all that mattered was that in the end, he'd failed her.

now it was time to set her free.

"you want me, huh?" he sent her an arrogant smile, felt her hands tremble as she slowly lowered them.

saw the way she gathered all her courage to answer.

"i want you, damon."

"i'm all yours, sweetheart."

his mouth crushed hers so suddenly the breath backed up in her lungs; her eyes shot open and she pulled away. something wasn't right. something was very wrong.

"damon - damon, wait -"

"you want damon fucking salvatore? here he is."

she was pinned beneath him in less than a second, and he was grinding her body against the rough fibers of the rug, kissing her before the gasp was able to leave her lips.

no, this wasn't a kiss. this was... this was _wrong_. it was all so _wrong_.

"damon, stop," she managed, shoving at him, trying to slide away.

he straddled her, looked down, and the pain in his eyes was gone. and it had been replaced by something horrible - something malicious, something terribly frightening.

"isn't this what you want, elena?" his hand shot between her legs and she squirmed.

"damon, please, please, stop it!" her voice was edging on desperate, her movements frantic. she was staring at a stranger and didn't even know her cheeks were wet with tears until he started laughing.

"look at you, poor little elena gilbert, always crying over something. i thought this is what you wanted, wasn't it?" he'd abandoned the v of her legs, molded her breast under his hand, drew a sound from her that was far from pleasured.

"please, damon. please." her breathing was ragged, her pulse jumping erratically in her throat.

as abruptly as he'd started, he stopped, rolled off her.

"you should really learn how to make up your mind, elena. not every guy is as nice as me. not every guy is gonna stop."

she didn't have an answer. she didn't have words. now she felt the tears running fast and hot.

"look, if you don't wanna fuck, can you just go? i'm not really in the mood for one of your little crying jags."

slowly, moving as though she was unsure her body would support her, elena stood. some distant part of her mind registered the fact that her shirt had been torn in two.

"damn it, elena, why are you looking at me like that? why would you possibly be surprised? what did you think would happen here tonight?"

"you said..." her voice trembled, and she had to swallow, force herself to go on. "you love me."

it was meant to be a statement, but the invisible question mark hung in the air. damon's grin twisted his lips, but it wasn't light and sexy and up-to-no-good. it was cruel.

"wouldn't be the first time i used the magic word to get laid." he could see her trying desperately to keep herself from dissolving entirely, and as his heart twisted, he aimed another blow. "if you want that making love bullshit, you came to the wrong salvatore."

his smile spread. "oh, that's right. you had the other one, didn't you? and he left you. everyone seems to do that, huh? why do you think that is? i mean, with stef, hell, he's a guy when it comes down to it. was it because he got bored? saw a better option in traveling the world with his new buddy? i'm sure you gave it your best shot, though.

"god, you really look pathetic right now." no, she looked broken, eyes big and tear-filled, chest shaking with each breath, body vibrating with hurt.

he couldn't keep looking at her, couldn't stand it. he went for the liquor, and when he brushed past her, she jerked back. scared. scared and shaking.

he closed his eyes, fought to quiet the emotions surging through him. when he turned back to her, his easy smile was in place.

"seriously, tonight's been shitty enough without me having to hang out with a sad little puppy, so make up your mind. if you don't wanna play, i'm sure i can find someone else who does. he cocked his head as though considering. "any suggestions?" he reached into his pocket, took out his phone, pretended to scroll through the numbers though he couldn't even read the words on the screen.

his words were ripping her apart, and she struggled to speak, tried with all her being to keep her voice level.

"it was a game," she said. "it was all a game."

"bingo," he said off-handedly. "i mean, i thought winning would come with a fun little prize, but _someone_ would rather be a debbie downer. adorable how you fell for the whole thing, though."

he couldn't take another moment of it, went to the door himself and opened it in an unmistakable gesture of dismissal. pressed the call button on his phone, brought it to his ear.

"elena, unless you want to try your hand at a threesome, you should probably go. things might be a little too intense for you to handle."

she gathered her shirt together, her grip shaky, her dignity shattered.

"katherine, sweetheart, still in town? feel like taking a trip down memory lane?" damon was speaking into the phone but covered the mouthpiece and sent elena one last grin. "could be a good time," he whispered. "i've always wanted to get with twins."

he moved his hand, returning his attention to the phone call. "awesome. no, you don't have to bring anything. i've got a bottle of champagne waiting for you."

for them, elena thought dimly. it was for them.

damon listened to the pre-recorded voice as it told him he had no new messages. he had to get her out of there. any moment now, he would break.

"i'll see you soon then," he said into the phone, turning his back on elena. "oh, and katherine? bring your A game. i need a real woman tonight."

he hung up the phone, turned back, saw her standing there, just standing.

"anything else i can do for you?"

"yes. yes. you can stay away from me. just stay the hell away from me." her voice broke on the last words, but she forced them out. "i don't _ever_ want to see you again."

she waited until she was out of sight before she started to run.

alone in his room, damon leaned back against the door. nothing in his life had ever hurt the way that conversation did.

but it was what had to happen. he was done, done fucking everything up. he'd look out for her - couldn't do anything else - but he'd watch from the sidelines and stay out of her way.

stay away from her, just as she wanted.

way to go, salvatore, he thought, raising the liquor bottle to his lips and taking a healthy slug. he lost the battle, lost his brother, lost the one person who mattered more than anyone else. all in one fun-filled night.

he put his head in his hands and wondered where the hell it had all gone wrong.


	10. Here's to Life

it wasn't until she opened the door, felt the chill autumn breeze hit skin burning with embarrassment and pain and a horrible sense of loss that elena's brain clicked into place.

it all came together in a single moment of clarity. and now, she reversed her steps, the aching sadness replaced by anger more intense than any she'd ever experienced.

he was on the floor with his head in his hands when she walked into the room, and when he looked up his first thought was that his description of her as a warrior princess had been dead on. she let the remnants of her shirt fall from her shoulders and her hair tumbled in sexy disarray. her makeup had been washed away by her tears, but with eyes blazing, cheeks flushed, mouth full and curled in a disgusted sneer, she hardly needed any.

"you fucking _asshole_."

he was quick to recover and quirked an eyebrow, standing and taking an absent swig of liquor.

"did you change your mind about the threesome? katherine should be here any minute."

elena shoved him backward against the door, slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

"jeez, someone changed her tune awfully quick. if you wanted to get in my pants all you had to do was ask."

she sent him a death glare, scanned his list of recent calls.

"interesting how you have katherine saved in your phone as voicemail."

he shrugged. "okay, busted. i told you, i'm not in the mood for company."

"do i look like i care?" she yanked the bottle of bourbon from his hand and took an impressive gulp purely to fuel the fire already raging in her gut. took another because it stoked the fire, stoked the anger. and gave her something to do with her hands, other than strangle him.

"woah there," he commented, reaching for the drink only to have her snatch it away. he watched her take her third swig, shook his head. "come on, elena. gimme the bottle, sweetheart."

the term of endearment was a bad idea, and elena whirled on him, shoved him backward.

"don't you _sweetheart_ me, damon fucking salvatore."

"damn, elena, i didn't know your vocabulary ran to the f-word."

"fuck. you." she enunciated each syllable very precisely as her eyes shot daggers. "what is WRONG with you, anyway? who the hell do you think you are?"

"i'm damon fucking salvatore," he said with a little grin. she jabbed a finger in his face.

"what the hell do you think you're smirking at? you have no reason to be all stupid and smirk-y." she swallowed another mouthful, made a face. when he went for the bottle again she pulled it out of reach. "stoppit. this is mine. you don't get to sit around all pathetic and drunk. i just spent," she closed her eyes, tried to focus though the world was suddenly a bit crooked. "i just spent hours, hours! sitting here! waiting for you! waiting for my stupid jackass knight in stupid jackass shining armor to come back to me! and how do you repay me? by being a, a - "

"stupid jackass?" he supplied, still smiling. damn if she wasn't the cutest thing he'd ever seen, standing there half-dressed, indignant and furious and pretty much adorable.

"don't get smart with me. i'm _mad_ at you. you manipulative ass! you think i don't see right through your crap? well i _do_, and you can't shake me off that easy, so you're just gonna have to deal with it!" another gulp, another grimace, a quick glare, another gulp.

fighting a smile damon put out a hand. "elena, give me the bottle." he stepped forward, she stepped back. he took another step, gauging his prey - a girl who was rapidly losing depth perception. she proved it by backing straight into the wall.

he took advantage of her momentary confusion - when had the wall moved, anyway? - to snag the bottle and replace it on his set of drawers.

"baby, you're gonna feel like hell in the morning."

"don't call me baby. i hate you. i hate you!" she tried to poke his chest, managed to miss the hollow of his throat by a handful of inches. "you, _you_, making me feel horrible and saying those terrible things and - "

"i know," he said soothingly, and when she continued to resist he solved the problem the way he generally did, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

"hey! you're cheating!"

"i usually do," he answered, giving her ass an appreciative pat before flipping her again and laying her on the bed. with deft fingers, he undid the snap of her jeans, drew them down off those long, smooth legs, tried not to groan.

"no, nuh uh, no sex, not now, not _ever_." she tried to sit up only to end up on her back again. "stop doing that!"

"doing what?" he smiled innocently at her as he unbuttoned his shirt, then pulled off the plain white undershirt he wore beneath it. "come here, sweetheart." when she sat up again, looking wary, he kept his eyes on hers, steadily focused, nearly hypnotizing her.

and when he flicked the snap of her bra open in a deft, easy move, she was so lost in those eyes that it took a moment for indignation to strike.

"what d'you think you're _doing_?"

his eyes were still trained on her face; he saw the flare of awareness in hers, felt his gut clench. it took an amount of self control he didn't know he possessed to keep his eyes on her face, and he practically shoved elena's head through the hole in his discarded undershirt. he wasn't a goddamn saint, and sitting there, big eyed and vulnerable, damn if he didn't want to indulge in some very fun, very exciting, very dark sins.

with effort he brought his mind back to the present and pulled back his bed covers.

"come on, elena. bedtime."

she let out an undignified snort. "i'm not staying."

"sure you are." to prove his point, he slid an arm under her, moved her over and flipped the cover back in place. "stay," he said, turning and going into the bathroom. he filled a glass with water, grabbed a few aspirin from the cabinet over the sink. when he came back into the room, she was on her feet, struggling to pull her jeans on.

he sighed. "really?"

she ignored him, concentrating on the task at hand. irritation rapidly turned into amusement, particularly when she tripped herself up and fell back on the bed. he didn't bother repressing his laughter and shook his head, watching her with a grin.

"having trouble?"

"shut up," she answered, glaring and kicking off the jeans. "fine. i'll stay. only 'cause i'm not dumb enough to drive. _you_ on the other hand, are very dumb, and very stupid, and very... you're just dumb," she finished. with those eloquent words, she pulled the covers over herself again, snuggled into the warmth of the bed.

he sat beside her, and she opened one eye, irritated.

"go away."

"this is my room."

"don't care."

"just take the aspirin and drink the water. you'll thank me later."

"ha! you're forgetting how i hate you and you're stupid and dumb."

"and a jackass."

"and a jackass."

"lay down, elena."

"don't wanna. i mean, since i'm here anyway..." she wrapped her arms around him, gave him a long, drunken kiss.

he was going to have to kill her, but he'd wait til she was sober and could feel pain.

pulling back was no easy task, not when she was twisting herself around him like a beautiful, exotic vine - not when he wanted to let her keep going forever. but he managed, barely, shoved her back for the third time.

"stoppit," he said through gritted teeth. could lust kill a man? it seemed like a distinct possibility.

she grumbled. "i'll never forgive you for this."

"for what?"

she thought about it for a second.

"for being you."

"now take the aspirin like a good girl."

"leave me alone."

"as soon as you take it," he said, pressing the tablets into her hand.

"make me," she responded, sulking.

"kay." he used his free hand to squeeze her nose, cutting off the air supply and forcing her to open her mouth. he took the pills back, put them on her tongue, poured water into her mouth and watched in amusement as she choked on it.

"okay! i took your stupid pills."

"you'll be glad you did in the morning, gorgeous."

she crossed her arms, obviously sulking. he only grinned, left the room, came back a moment later in a pair of black boxers and nothing else.

"you have a really sexy body," she said, sounding petulant, like the fact itself somehow offended her.

"so do you," he answered, watching in amusement as her eyes dropped. he heard the gasp, enjoyed the way her eyes grew huge.

"no wonder you're so cocky."

she burst out laughing at her own unintended pun, and damon shook his head, smiling.

"scoot over, princess," he told her, giving her a little shove.

"i don't think there's room for that - you - oh shut up," she said, shoving back.

"it's quiet time, elena," he murmured, wondering how he would possibly manage to sleep beside a mostly-naked elena when he was already rock hard.

she rolled toward him, her bare leg brushing up against him. those big eyes were fascinated as they watched the lust cloud his eyes.

"did i do that?"

"what?"

she nudged him with her knee and he couldn't bite back a groan.

"elena, i'm doing my best not to seriously take advantage of this situation, and you're not helping."

"i was just wondering."

"yeah, you, all you. now get on your side of the bed and go to sleep."

she lay her head back on the pillow, thankfully moving her leg away from dangerous territory.

"i don't really hate you," she murmured.

"i know." he kissed her brow and stroked her cheek, simultaneously feeling sweet and protective and horny as all hell. she inspired the strangest mix of feelings in him. it was a kind of power - and it was scary and amazing.

"i didn't mean any of it," he said after a moment.

"i know," she whispered, snuggling deeper under the covers. he tucked them around her so that the fabric made a barrier - a pathetic one, but a barrier nonetheless - between their bodies.

"go to sleep, okay?"

"will you be here when i wake up?"

"it's my bed," he told her, smiling.

"will you?"

"i'm not going anywhere, elena."

satisfied, she gave him a big wet kiss, closed her eyes, and fell instantly to sleep.

it was during the pre-dawn hours of the morning that damon woke abruptly, startled into consciousness by the sudden knowledge - and how he knew it was completely beyond him - that elena wasn't beside him.

the light from beneath the bathroom door marginally reassured him, but he was on his feet and across the room in seconds regardless.

elena opened the door just as damon lifted a hand to knock, and for a long moment they stood motionless, damon's hand still poised mid-knock. they were entirely captivated by each other.

she was rumpled, sleepy-eyed, her hair in tumbled disarray. her feet were bare, her long legs endless, her slender frame silhouetted by the light behind her. the hem of his shirt was just long enough to hide those sexy black panties, and as his gaze swept upward, he watched, transfixed, as the smooth slope of fabric covering her breasts was disturbed by nipples that inexplicably hardened the instant she saw him.

her mouth went dry, but the thirst that dragged her from sleep was entirely different from the one she experienced now.

damon dropped his hand, shook his head. grinned.

"morning, sunshine."

she took a shaky breath. he was too goddamn gorgeous for his own good, with those arms subtly shaped by muscle, those defined pecs, that hard stomach with its six perfect indentations. he was no barrel-chested, bulging biceps, weight-lifting type; with damon, the impression of strength, of power, wasn't caused by size or muscles. if anything, he was on the lean side. and yet one look told you this was a man who would fight hard, fight well, and, in all likelihood, fight dirty.

and that face. god, that face, which could only be described as beautiful. the hard line of his jaw, the sensual mouth curved in a wicked smile, the faintly hollowed cheeks and strong cheekbones. those eyes, impossibly blue, both intense and eloquent.

he was like a tiger. or a panther, she thought. a tiger stood proud and bold, moved with ferocity and determination; a panther was sneakier, more lithe, sinuous, with the easy grace of its domesticated counterparts. damon could blend into the background if necessary, but he wouldn't hesitate to show his fangs - real and figurative - should the need arise. he was all suppressed energy, a spring, coiled but poised to release at any second.

even as electricity pulsed between them, damon reached out to touch her cheek with infinite gentleness.

"you feeling okay?"

she nodded, struck mute by his very presence. what was it about this moment? the here, the now? she'd seen damon shirtless countless times. and of course, there was the memorable occasion when she'd walked in on him wearing nothing but a challenging smirk. she'd retreated then, even as her hormones had gone into overdrive.

and that, she realized, was the difference.

she wasn't going to retreat this time. this time, they were going to see things through.

he knew it, too. saw it on her face, felt it singeing the air, burning hot. and was, he discovered, not a little shocked, nervous as hell.

"do you want something to drink, some more aspirin?" his voice was casual, his eyes locked on her face. he could spend all of eternity just looking at her and still want more.

"i want you, damon."

hearing the words brought emotion surging to the surface, and he hoped to god his eyes weren't bright with tears. she said it so simply, like that one sentence was the answer to any and all questions, asked aloud or silently wondered.

"i don't deserve it, elena."

"it? what, sex?" she pursed her lips, and her eyes laughed. "do you think this is some kind of award? first place gets to sleep with elena gilbert?"

"you," he answered quietly. "i don't deserve you."

she moved toward him, heart aching. and she lay her head against his chest, slipped her arms around him and held on, offering him everything.

for a moment, he stayed frozen. it was when she touched him with such tenderness that she managed to tear down his defenses, to make him feel... human. she made him remember what it was to be human.

she felt the tension drain from his muscles, shivered when one hand dipped under the shirt she wore to stroke the length of her back. slowly, unwilling to break contact, he caught her hand in his, drawing her toward him as he moved backward to the bed.

oh, god, she was shaking. she was terrified.

she was desperate for him.

gently, he reversed their positions so her back was up against one of the beams of his four-poster bed. he paused to look at her, to savor the moment of anticipation.

"kiss me, elena." it was a whispered command, and her gaze dropped to his mouth. she looked small and sensitive and achingly sweet, and when she complied, the hesitant kiss rocked him to his core.

she pulled back, looking at him with solemn eyes. she swallowed, thinking again that he was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.

and experienced. he had decades and decades of experience, and though she knew the words he'd aimed at her earlier that night were meant to drive her away and, in his perverse fashion, to protect her, she was overwhelmed by nerves.

"stop thinking," he murmured, dipping his head to kiss the hollow of her throat where her pulse jumped beneath his mouth. "just feel. all you have to do is feel."

her skin was heating fast, and she tilted her head to give him more access as her hands moved from his wrists to his shoulders. she'd had no idea how sensitive her throat was until his mouth was on it, and she shuddered, fingers gripping those hard shoulders as she pulled him closer.

now he pulled back, saw the flush of her cheeks, and knew he had to have more. she was offering everything - damn if he wouldn't take it.

"i have to see you," he said, voice hoarse. "let me see you, elena."

she looked up at him, eyes dark and clouded, then lowered her arms, brought her hands down to toy with the hem of the shirt. she'd never experienced this kind of intense vulnerability, and it was potent, scary, delicious. with deliberate slowness, she lifted the shirt, inch by tantalizing inch, watched his eyes darken, heard his breath quicken. it was a power she'd never known, and she had every intention of drawing it out. but damon had other ideas.

"fuck," he muttered, "i _need_ you. god damn it!" his tone was fierce, and she let out a startled gasp when his hands wrenched hers away. grabbed the neck of the shirt and in one violent motion, ripped it down the middle and tossed it aside.

jesus, she was beautiful. her breath was catching in her throat and she was hypnotized by him, shuddering.

"tell me you want me to touch you," he said in a low growl. but she was incapable of speech, melting into the heat of her own passion. "say it," he demanded, grabbing a fistful of hair, tugging ruthlessly. his eyes moved over her body, and though he was only touching her hair she could all but feel his skin against hers. "say it," he said again, pulling sharply.

the pain wasn't pain at all. what the hell was happening? every physical sensation seemed to move from the tips of her fingers, the tips of her toes, rushing up to meet at the center in an unbearable ball of heat.

"i don't," she told him, her tone husky. "i don't want it," she went on, heart hammering. "i need it. i need your hands, damon. i need you."

it was like the gunshot that sent runners off the mark; she thought she heard its roar in her head as the leash on his control snapped. as he took her at her word, those wicked hands taking over, skimming her hips, cupping her breasts. she arched under his touch, begging for more. she'd known. some part of her had known it would be like this. dark and frenzied and -

her breath caught when his mouth closed over her nipple. tugged, toyed. her eyes were open, but she couldn't see a damn thing. all she could do was feel.

when he raised his head, met her lips in a feverish kiss, she tangled her fingers in his hair and yanked him closer so that finally, finally, their bare skin met, every hard line of his body, every soft curve of hers pressed together. she could feel him, feel her effect on him, was dazzled by it. and one of her hands abandoned his hair to slip between their bodies, to touch and tease.

"oh, _fuck_." the words were choked, and he knew if she kept going she'd drive him over. so he yanked her hands away, twisted her arms behind her back, cuffed her wrists.

she wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly she was on her back, and the weight of him was pressing her against the bed. when had they gotten there? and why was she wasting brain cells wondering? the contrast of the steely strength of his body and the soft give of the mattress was dizzying. his hands found her, ripped aside the black swatch of fabric so that she was beneath him, naked and unbelievably stunning. for a moment the beast in him quieted, and he rose above her, just looking. she was everything. she was his entire fucking world, and the sudden knowledge that this body, soft and smooth and so unbearably sensitive, would soon join with his - the knowledge staggered him.

he wasn't anywhere near done drinking in the sight of her laying there, vulnerable and hot and ready beneath him. but she was pushing herself up, impatient for him, and her hands found the elastic of his boxers.

"now," she said, breath ragged. "please, please, damon, i can't take it." god, she was trembling, and her skin was slick with the sweat of passion. she whimpered, actually whimpered, when he moved away, got to his feet. "are you really making me beg?" she would, and she knew it. didn't care.

"have to - " he couldn't be bothered with words, stripped off his boxers, hands suddenly uncharacteristically clumsy. "you're so beautiful, elena. you have no idea, do you? no idea how incredibly beautiful you are."

she wasn't looking at him - at his face. her mouth had gone dry at the sight of that - him - god, she couldn't think.

"you're so small," he murmured, still standing there, barely conscious of her eyes which focused like magnets on that part of him that would bring them truly and entirely together. she swallowed, wondered fleetingly how the hell she could accommodate him. "i'm so scared of hurting you," he said thickly, slowly moving over her, ranging himself above her slender body, looking down into those big, bright, lust-filled eyes.

"you won't," she said, reaching for him, making him gasp. "you couldn't," she told him. and as she looked at those unbelievably blue eyes, everything inside her stilled, quieted. even as her pulse continued to pound, she knew nothing would ever be the same. and everything would be exactly as it should. "i need you, damon," she repeated. this time her voice wasn't urgent, but soft, soothing. "i'm yours. i'm giving you everything i am." a little smile curved her lips. "it would be rude to turn down a gift."

he let out a strangled laugh and skimmed his hands over her hips, down her thighs. touched her where she was dying to be touched.

"i'm ready," she said, barely able to get the words out, barely able to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. "take me, damn it. please, damon. i have to know... i have to feel you."

"if i hurt you -"

"you _won't_," she told him, and this time her voice had an edge of urgency. "damn it, you won't." and she opened herself to him, arched her hips, felt him hard and intimidatingly huge against her burning center. "if i don't feel you inside me in two seconds, i swear to god i'll kill you."

she didn't have to make good on the threat. slowly, with infinite care and tenderness, he slid, inch by delicious inch, into her. felt her tighten around him like a silken glove. felt her body bow beneath him, watched the play of emotion on her face. her eyes were closed as she savored his slow entry into her body, and she was biting her lip, accepting him, loving him.

oh, god, she loved him.

"damon," she managed, broke off in a moan when he moved, rocked his hips forward, back, buried himself inside her. "damon, look at me."

he already was, and in the midst of all the pleasure, all the sinful pain, he grinned his damon grin. "baby, your eyes are closed."

she opened them, dizzy. "oh. well. hold - hold on," she said, hands gripping his hips, desperately trying to hold him in place when what she really wanted was to urge them to move, faster, faster.

he was trembling with restraint but listened, poised above her, inside her, as they absorbed each other, shivering with sensation.

she brought her hands from his hips to his face, pulled him toward her and kissed him with devastating sweetness.

"damon, i have to tell you something."

christ, he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold still. but he grabbed a thread of self control, and looking into her eyes, he silently urged her on.

"i love you, damon," she whispered.

his heart tripped in his chest and he sank into her, lowering himself so he could wrap his arms around her, so he could bury his face in her hair. and then her legs were clamping like a vise around his waist, hips moving like lightning.

when that lightning struck, it was a bolt of staggering electricity that shocked, seared their bodies. and the sparks flashed in a dazzling burst of light as they drove each other over the edge, bodies joined as one, tumbling into the dark abyss between pleasure and madness. tumbling, tumbling, tumbling. together.

the cork popped from the champagne bottle, bubbles rushing upward, bursting.

when elena looked at damon, she knew he was thinking thoughts identical to hers.

"it's like watching an orgasm," she said, grinning.

"more fun to have them," he told her, filling one glass, then the next.

"no arguments here."

dawn was breaking outside the window, the early birds filling the air with song as they flew in search of the worm.

elena sat cross-legged on the bed and accepted the bubbling crystal glass damon handed her before he sat beside her. she was utterly spent, lost in a place beyond contentment.

"i think tonight calls for a toast," she said, leaning her head against him and delighting in the feeling of closeness.

there was the slightest hint of bitterness in his voice when he answered. "i had it all figured out, earlier. this was supposed to be a celebratory drink."

"and you don't think tonight calls for celebration?"

"i think you call for celebration. just for being you."

she smiled, kissed the hollow of his throat. "listen, damon. so, things didn't go as planned." she laughed, aware of his brooding expression even though she wasn't looking at him. the sound was rich with triumph and hope and simple, easy happiness. "stop being all dark. come on, damon. things _never_ go as planned. if you're going to blame anyone, blame me. just by existing - just by being me - i'm the wrench in the machine. i'm the variable that always screws things up."

"she says, laughing," he murmured, fascinated by her.

"you have to laugh, damon. you're the one who taught me that. that it's just as important to protect life as it is to enjoy it." her tone sobered as she lifted her head and looked at him with serious eyes. "you didn't fail, damon. you certainly didn't fail me. because here i am, sitting in bed with you. i'm exactly where i want to be, with the person i want to be with. that's you, by the way," she added, coaxing a grin from him.

"so, here," she went on, raising her glass and lifting her head regally, "here's to you, and me, together. here's to mind-blowing sex," she went on, grinning back at him. "here's to me, loving you. and to you, loving me."

she clinked her glass against his, and she was radiant, filled with that beautiful glow he loved so much. "i guess what i'm saying is, here to _life_."

and they drank the bubbly wine, drank in the sight of each other, reveled in a night that had ended more perfectly than either could have ever imagined. and they didn't think of yesterday, or worry about tomorrow. they simply lost themselves in the joy of the moment, the day, the never-ending present.

they lost themselves in the celebration of life.


End file.
